Page 124 of Stricken

More silence but this one is different in quality. Loaded and menacing.

"Here's the proof you wanted, Uncle," I grit out.

Tony only makes an unintelligible sound that neither denies nor confirms that he understands what is happening.

"Who sent you?" Vlad asks the assassin.

"El Jefe," the man rasps, pointing a finger at Salvatore. "He talked to El Jefe. I saw him." Pause. "But he wasn't the one calling the sho—"

Bam!

The bullet whizzes by, a whisper of death in my ears. My heart jumps into my throat. I don't know why the first thing that comes to mind is protecting Vlad, but he's already pulled out his Glock, and we are all frozen, watching blood pooling from the hole in the assassin's forehead. The body crumples, gravity reclaiming it with a lifeless thump.

I whirl around, still reeling from shock, and see Claudio, Uncle's fucking consigliere, standing in the shadows and holding a gun.

Fucker!

"Why?" I demand. "He was talking."

Tony's shook. He hasn't uttered a single word. I can't tell what's going on in his head. Hell, I can't tell what's going on in mine.

"To make sure he doesn't reveal the identity of the second man, right?" Vlad says, voice cold. He signals to Ivan and Ivan quickly disarms Claudio by twisting the consigliere's arm behind his back. The gun clutters to the floor.

And then it hits me.

The other Italian.

"Tell me it wasn't you, you fucking cunt," I hiss out, marching over to Claudio.

Salvatore starts laughing all of a sudden. "Shakespeare would get a kick out of this family drama," he snorts out, mostly to himself.

I halt in front of the man I've known my entire life, the man I considered my other uncle. "Why?"

For the first time in twenty years, Claudio's eyes are unrecognizable. His lips form a sneer. "You're still too weak and too dumb to guess, Nicola. And if that's the case, then you're not the best fit for the job. You should stop here."

"Smettila!" Tony's command in Italian shuts down all conversations in the room.

Seconds tick by. Even the rest of the house is quiet. No one dares to speak until Claudio finally breaks the silence. "You want to know why, Tony, my friend…Your sons are useless, and Nico... he's too soft. He doesn't have what it takes to take over. I'm sure you understand I'm the best choice for the job but your pride and your attachment to your blood, even if it's rotten, would never allow you to do what's necessary to keep this kingdom going."

The sting of betrayal is painful. The kind of pain that digs into your bones.

"Shut your dirty mouth," Tony's voice is rough and tired but every ounce of hate he meant to include is felt and heard by every single person in this room.

"Take him away," he mutters, barely holding himself upright.

Ivan and one of the Hellhounds manhandle Claudio first. When he's gone, the other two Hellhounds drag Salvatore out of the room too. Unlike Claudio, my cousin tries to put up a fight, yelling that it's not safe yet.

"Good," I shout at him pettily. "Maybe you'll finally catch a bullet."

"Fuck you! You cocksucking homo!"

"Fuck you too!"

Tony's men pour into the room before we close the door. They grab the dead body and carry it out. Everyone including Vlad is hassled out and I'm one foot in the corridor when the old man beckons me with a quick flick of his wrist.

"You stay," he mutters. "And close the door."

I do as he says, pull the lever to seal us off, then turn around and stride away from the entrance and into the center of the room.

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